He wanted to relate to him, to understand something he didn't understand before and that drove them apart. In his mind it was simple, he wanted to understand Ezra. He'd been thinking constantly about why he dwelled so much on Stavros, why he first talked to him in that club, why they called over the phone, why Steven constantly checked his phone to see if he had texted, and why they were now going out to lunch. He'd never done that sort of thing before. One moment they were on the phone talking like two regular adults and then the next. ' Do something else over the phone.' He wasn't sure what possessed him the other night to engage in such. The screen lit up with an address near the local hospital. He held it in his hands for a moment staring down at it. "I'll see you soon." Steven hung up the phone. "Unless you'd rather do something else over the phone." He remarked suggestively. "Absolutely, I'll send you the address." Stavros laughed again. I won't say that the Greek restaurant is as good as what's it's like at home, but it's still good." Because I am near two very good restaurants of both." "Well, would you prefer Japanese food or Greek food. It's not like he was doing much work anyway. Another reason to slam his head into the wall. "I'm sorry, it's a force of habit." His face felt hot. "Are you going to answer the phone like that every time I call? How are you, Mr Steven Dickinson?" He dropped the bottle of window cleaner in his hurry to pick it up.Ī deep laugh came through the phone. It was a betrayal of your own weakness to reveal a mental issue about yourself. His father never talked about that kind of stuff and neither did Steven. Mental health awareness had skyrocketed, young people openly talked about their issues, treatments, medications. The younger generation were fine with talking about mental health. If it would help Ezra, he would do it, but what if people found out. Moving the chairs back and straightening them, grabbing the window cleaner from the draw in his desk and cleaning the greasy hand mark Colby had left. Steven took a deep breath once they were gone. "Did you see that gold name plate?" She asked. Let's go." He grabbed his mom's arm as she stood up and escorted her out. "Can you give me some time to think about it and I'll contact you later?" He remembered telling Ezra when he was a teenager that true love was a young heart's fantasy, the older you got the more reality set in and love of any sort became an impossibility. Steven had never found that level of companionship, someone so assured they'd be together forever and here his son had found that in this weird man. ![]() For all his oddities and weirdness, he could not fault Colby for his devotion. "Would you not do the same?"Ĭolby looked so serious. "I would do anything for Ezra." Jemma made an aw sound at Colby. "Of course not, but therapy is a little extreme." "Do things really need to be taken that far?" He asked.Ĭolby laughed. That he wasn't up for the job as much as he used to be. Thank God that at least his parents weren't around to see him be diagnosed as not only a lunatic but a bad father. However, if his co workers ever found about this, he would be a laughing stock. "I know, but you are." So, why not go to therapy, talk it out and build the great father-son bond I kind of think could definitely might happen." "That," Steven pauses, "it is not my intent to upset him."Ĭolby nodded. "You and Ezra have a lot of unresolved issues. "Yes, therapy." He said the word slower as if that's what Steven was having trouble with. "We think," said Colby, "that you and Ezra should get couples therapy, but like, for families instead." ![]() Here he was, in the presence of someone who took care of his son better than he did. He suddenly felt uncomfortable and inferior under her judgemental gaze. was that technically true? Jemma was kinder and more present with Ezra than Ezra's mom had been. "All this money, but couldn't pay child support."Īh, so she was the self proclaimed mother of his son. She was still looking around the room and mumbling things under her breath. Thankfully, she didn't feel the need to pull her chair round as well. Jemma sat in the other chair that was across from the desk. Steven withdrew his hand, wiping it on his trouser leg. ![]() He placed a hand on top of Steven's -which was very much unwelcome- and gave him a sympathetic frown. He dragged the chair around and placed it next to Steven's. He walked towards the desk, grabbed one of the leather chairs that sat across from his desk but completely missed the point that the desk was supposed to separate them.
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